He had thought David hated him. Okay, so maybe hate was a little too strong. He had thought, at least, that David didn’t like him. Apparently, he was wrong.

They’d had a sort of rivalry back when Greg was in the lab. On bad days, it had been an all-out war between trace and DNA, one that Greg would have firmly insisted he was winning until the lab blew up. They’d stopped after that, though Greg wasn’t sure if Hodges had called the truce or if the combination of pain and drugs had made Greg forget about it.

As a CSI, Greg wasn’t sure where he stood. Hodges didn’t act very different, so maybe it was Greg that had changed. There wasn’t any reason for a CSI and a tech to compete. Actually, it would be kind of stupid to try and Greg had a feeling he’d already used up his stupid quota for the year. Without that rivalry, Greg was finding that they actually, strangely, got along.

They were at Archie’s when it happened. Hodges had found a copy of Stratego on the shelf and immediately dragged Greg off to another room to play. Somehow, it had turned into a drinking game. Neither of them remembered who had started it, but by about their twelfth round, Greg was thoroughly plastered.